Virtua Rhapsody
by speccyboy
Summary: Virtua Fighter from the beginning - a loose amalgamation of the game and anime's plot (and an original side-story) with new characters in addition to the familiar cast. Read and review - I may require help/co-writing, so comments and offers can be left in the reviews section. :) Originally a (now aborted) Tekken fic.
1. Prologue

**Virtua Rhapsody**

**Prologue**

The Worldwide Fighting Tournament was a name that struck fire into the hearts of many competitors and fighters around the World. Every man and woman wanted to be a part of the Tournament. What many people are not aware of is the Tournament's lighter and softer side, courtesy of an electronic chiptune music band which owned the world of computer and video game music until they were given a chance to expand into superstardom with a live gig at the Bryant Mansion. The band was known as _Enlightenment_, and this is their story, so prepare for highs and lows, laughs and tears, comedy and drama, and a retro fucking soundtrack, all in one epic fucking adventure.


	2. Chapter 1

**Virtua Rhapsody**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my Original Characters - Sandro Peseta, Yakov Skulachev and Hans von Braun**

**Chapter 1 **

_**Hallenstadion, City of Zurich, Zurich, Switzerland – 5 October 1993**_

Chiptune prog-rock group _Enlightenment_ had been playing together since their college days, when they had shared their mutual affection for video game music. Right now, they were performing before an audience of 13,000 nerds and music lovers, mainly German speakers. They were nearing the end of what was meant to be their last show on their current tour in support of their album _Dust to Dust_. As per usual, the conclusion of the encore to their shows was characterised by each of the three keyboardists taking turns in playing a piece of classical music individually. The audience applauded and the show concluded as the trio – Sandro Peseta, Yakov Skulachev and Hans von Braun – headed backstage after they what believed to be their last concert on their European tour. They had yet to break the US. A man with dark hair in a suit and necktie – Mr Bryant – was in attendance as he followed the band backstage. Sandro, the eldest of the three – 25 years old – was still high from the energy delivered during the performance. "YES!" He shouted out. "I was on fucking fire tonight. WE were on fucking fire!" He laughed as he took a swig of vodka to calm down; his friend Yakov – the middle musician, 22 years old – remained calm like a stoic samurai.

"Personally, I thought the audience was quite placid compared to the more rowdy folks we played to a few days ago." Yakov spoke up, the Soviet musician observing his friend's behaviour as he sighed while muttering something in Russian.

"Oh, you mean those fucking garlic-chomping rod-sparers in the Parc des Princes in Paris? What about the drug-probers at the Groenoordhallen in Leiden who booed the shit out of us until I had to give them a piece of my mind like a Venetian Superman?" Sandro retorted as the booze began to take effect, followed by the Italian keyboardist cursing in his native language as Mr Bryant slowly made his way through the rather lax security – the band did not believe in bodyguards.

"Europe's great, but we've still got to break America. I mean, we've done four albums and we've only toured Europe – we were lucky to play in Budapest, man. Hell, I think Munich was our best gig as a whole." Hans, the youngest of the three – younger than Yakov by two months or so – spoke up. The three electro-pianists began contemplating work for their next album as Mr Bryant reached them, dressed in a suit and necktie, accompanied by a guardian.

"Boys… that was a unique show you put on. I am impressed." He smiled as a slightly drunk Sandro squinted at him, the musician sitting up as his addled memory became clear once more. "I've got an offer for you: You play a show for my daughter and her socialite friends… and I'll help you break America."

"What are you talking about?" Sandro asked, the normally abrasive and outspoken young man rather polite and civilised for a change. Mr Bryant handed the trio some plane tickets.

"All expenses paid. I suggest you get some sleep and leave tomorrow." Mr Bryant replied with a slight smirk on his face. "Good day, boys." With those words, the businessman left. Sandro looked at the ticket as the booze began to leave his body, his eyes widening slightly as the realisation set in.

"Guys, look at this! It's an invitation to play at the Bryant Mansion in Frisco!" He said jubilantly.

"What do we do?" Yakov asked curiously. "We can't just turn down this offer, right?"

"Damn right, Yak!" Sandro replied as he looked up to the Heavens. "Our prayers have been answered." He turned to some of the roadies. "One more show: The Bryant Mansion Courtyard in San Francisco, California – we're going to break America, baby!" There was a clamour of voices from the roadies.

"I hear there are going to be some pretty stiff upper lips there." Hans surmised – he was not too sure if he liked the sound of this gig.

"Yes, I heard that Jacky and Sarah Bryant will be there – JKD siblings, a racing prodigy and a blonde bitch with a thing for skydiving, endlessly straddling her opponents as she beats them and throws them into submission while breaking their shinbones and giving them sexy but deadly looks." Yakov mused. "What do you think, San?" He turned to face Sandro, his eyes widening slightly as he stared out into Space. "Sandro…?" Yakov waved his hand in front of Sandro, a look of worry evident on his face. "Hans, I think the booze went to his head too soon." Hans just sighed in disbelief before Sandro finally spoke up.

"I'm not drunk, Yak… I was just thinking about what you were saying." With those words, he just crossed his legs as he wiped the image of him being straddled by Sarah away from his mind. He turned to his friends. "One more gig and then this tour is definitely over." With those words, the trio headed back to their hotel in the centre of the City of Zurich and into their bedrooms. Sandro lied back on his bed, trying to sleep… but all he could think of was Sarah straddling him on top of his keyboard.


	3. Chapter 2

**Virtua Rhapsody**

**Chapter 2 **

_**Zurich Airport, City of Zurich, Zurich, Switzerland – 6 October 1993**_

The next day, the airport in the city centre was filled to the brim with the members of _Enlightenment_ and their entourage. As they approached a gate, however, Mr Bryant was there to greet them. "Why are you taking this way like everybody else? Come, you can use my private jet." Sandro looked at Yakov and Hans, who simply boarded the private jet without question (complete with roadies and equipment).

"You sure you got a podium to fit all this shit, man?" Sandro asked as he boarded the private jet with a combination of awe and disbelief. He was given a reply in the form of a subtle chuckle as the private jet took off, leaving Switzerland as it soared over Europe, crossing the Atlantic Ocean into North America.

"You three are of exceptional talent – I've seen your shows and I think you could be of great interest and of unique use." A plan formed in Sandro's head as Mr Bryant spoke.

_God, I hope we can film this gig. I mean, it's going to skyrocket us into super-fucking-stardom, and it's going to be monumental!_ His mind screamed at the prospect of finally becoming a stadium icon, a far cry from his genesis as a humble session player. He looked at Mr Bryant. "We're in. We'll even do it for free." He smiled. Yakov turned to face Sandro with a look of worry.

"For free…? San, are you off your meds?" Yakov asked.

"What's wrong with doing a free gig, Yak?" Sandro retorted as Hans sighed, knowing this was going to be a LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG flight. "Money isn't everything. Besides, think of how many women will turn up at the gig."

"Is getting your penis wet ALL you care about, Sandro?" Hans spoke up in an attempt to placate his quarrelling bandmates.

"No, Hans. I'm more interested in how our newfound popularity can open up new doors for us, and if the human plum's going to be there, then I want to be there to suck the juice out of the fruit." Sandro retorted. "We're going to be bigger than the Charterhouse Proggers and the Rock-and-Roll Royal Family – bigger than Live Aid." He laughed as he and Yakov continued to bicker and argue throughout the flight, Hans simply listening and trying to mediate.

In the safety of the cockpit, Mr Bryant simply smirked as he watched the three musicians argue amongst themselves, observing their behaviour silently, the chiptune rockers' argument eventually becoming more frantic, Sandro beginning to wave and wildly gesticulate with his arms while Yakov put his hands on his hips in a pejorative and effeminate manner, Hans now lighting a cigarette to calm his nerves. The Bryant Corporation Concorde had microphones built into the main part of the plane.

"I'm saying we should try and mingle as well as play." Sandro stated.

"You're saying we should get our penises wet." Yakov countered.

"Oh, fuck off, Yak – it's not all about wanking and fucking, the life of a rock star." Sandro retorted as he took a drink of vodka.

"Well, you're expecting the both of us to be PERFECT before you even attempt to get down with the ladies." Yakov spat back – he was losing the argument and he knew it.

"Oh, don't be so fucking ridiculous. Unlike you, I tend to keep my hands off women until I know them well enough – I don't need a year's supply of condoms… in your case, four… to satiate my sexual desires, I've got a big enough penis as it is." Sandro semi-boasted as Hans just smirked, watching the two strong-willed band members argue like bickering siblings.

In the cockpit, Mr Bryant's face crumbled into a bit of a groan as a single thought entered his mind. _What have I done? How can these talented musicians be such children?_

_How?_

_HOW?_

_HOW?_

The jet eventually arrived at an airport in San Francisco, the Sun setting over the Horizon as the Sky darkened slowly.


	4. Chapter 3

**Virtua Rhapsody**

**Chapter 3 **

_**San Francisco International Airport, San Francisco, California, USA – 7 October 1993**_

The Bryant Corporation Concorde careened to a private runaway at the airport. Before the band could speak, their equipment was quickly loaded into a Bryant Corporation van, while the members of _Enlightenment_ themselves were greeted by limousine. "Enjoy your moment of celebrity stardom – this is just a free preview." Mr Bryant said as Yakov and Hans entered the limousine. Sandro smiled at the Chairman.

"Thanks and fuckity-bye." He said before his bandmates dragged him into the limo, which sped off without a word.

_**Bryant Mansion, San Francisco, California, USA – 7 October 1993**_

"Sandro… I know you want to be the greatest human fucking being in the World and all that bullshit… but could you keep your mouth shut next time!?" Yakov squealed in an unusually high-pitched tone as the trio were escorted to Bryant Mansion. As soon as the limo stopped, the trio were escorted to their rooms – a giant penthouse suite. "We're sharing together?" Yakov asked apprehensively. The porter nodded wordlessly. "O… K…" He continued, not used to sharing a room with anyone, let alone members of the opposite sex.

"Where are we going to rehearse?" Hans enquired. "I don't want to awaken everyone in the middle of the night with a poorly-chipped rendition of Mozart's Requiem." He quipped worriedly. The porter simply handed them a note, which read: "Sub-Basement 1." He then left, leaving the three chip-rockers in the suite. There was an awkward pause. "This isn't going to be like that shitty basement studio in Munich, is it?" The German musician asked. "I don't want the Chorus of the Falling Fucking Lemmings on our next record." Sandro chuckled at the joke.

"You guys do what you want. I'm going to mingle." With those words, he rubbed his hands together with a huge smile on his face. Descending into the main atrium of the building itself, the Italian musician looked around him and his eyes widened slightly as he saw approximately 20 or so people present. _They look like the socialite ponces to me. Let's have a look at who's who. _He thought to himself. Scanning the environment carefully, he spotted some familiar faces. He jumped past a pained-looking Jacky Bryant, getting his attention. "You OK, man?" Sandro asked worriedly.

"Yes… I'm fine. I'm just a bit upset… I can't race anymore – accident." Jacky looked up at Sandro sadly, scanning the Italian musician carefully. "You must be Sandro Peseta of the band _Enlightenment_."

"Yes, that's me – I'm supposed to be playing a gig in a few days." He chuckled nervously. "Sorry about your injury, by the way." He said sympathetically.

"Don't worry, man… I'll be fine. See you around." With those words, Jacky nodded and left, leaving Sandro alone once more as he hit the back of this head into a wall by accident, grunting in pain.

"Fuck…!" He called out.

"You should watch where you're going." Sandro, undeterred, turned around… and he found himself face-to-face with the woman herself.

"So you're the keyboard-straddle girl, I mean… the human plum… I mean… the heiress apparent…" His words were cut off in a humorous manner.

"Yes, I'm Sarah Bryant. You're Sandro Peseta, aren't you?" She asked in a cheery tone, smirking slightly at his amusing comments and his slightly nervous posture. Sandro sighed as he worked his quick wit to his advantage.

"I heard you'd be here – I'm one of the guys they hired to play a free show with as much mainstream appeal as drawing a smiley face on my bollocks while wearing a T-shirt with an erect penis on it." This comment earned him a raised eyebrow and a wicked smile.

"Sandro Peseta… Italian musician and anti-authoritarian human rights activist…?" Sarah asked coyly as the Californian blonde eyed up the Italian dark-haired artist. Sandro nodded wordlessly as the rich princess eyed him up in a sexy manner. "Maybe you can give me some human rights sometime…?" She smirked seductively before leaving. "Ciao!"

In his office, Mr Bryant stood by his long-time aide, Kenji. Observing the mingling, he sighed as he sat back in his chair after witnessing Jacky and Sarah's separate interactions with Sandro. "Petulant child…" He muttered as Kenji observed quietly.


End file.
